


Is That Your Favorite Gun in My Pocket, Or Am I Just Happy to See You?

by misura



Category: Primeval
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Episode Tag, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If Danny could have conceived of any situation where it would be required to reassemble a gun, he'd want to have Becker right there beside him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That Your Favorite Gun in My Pocket, Or Am I Just Happy to See You?

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Becker/Danny, alpha male_

The way Danny looks at it, he's just going to have to play this cool:

 _'Hey, remember that gun you lend me? Kind of lost it.'_

No use mentioning he knows it was Becker's favorite - it's not like Becker's going to bring that up anyway, not without sounding like a guy who seriously needs to get a girlfriend (or, heck, just a new favorite gun; Danny doesn't judge - and a gun might actually be _useful_ ).

He's almost tempted to not bring it up at all, but that doesn't feel quite right, somehow. Possibly, it's only his imagination (bit of a guilty conscience, maybe) only right now, it's like there's this _thing_ between them, this kind of tension. It makes Danny a bit uncomfortable, and when you're running around saving the world together almost every single day of the week, 'uncomfortable' is not a good feeling. It's distracting, the way he'll sometimes look at Becker and feel this sort of - well.

If Becker's going to be too cool to bring it up, Danny reckons it's going to have to be him.

Nothing to it, really; all part of being the leader.

 

"Hey," Danny says.

Becker looks up briefly from what he's doing, then goes back to doing it. "Quinn." 'It' being cleaning his gun - or rather, as far as Danny can judge (and he knows a fair bit about guns, really): taking a gun apart and putting it back together again after fondling some of the parts.

Again: Danny doesn't judge. Just calls them like he sees them.

"Remember that gun you let me borrow a while back?"

At least Becker seems to know his guns well enough to put them together again and still have them work. "Yes." He's pretty fast, too - if Danny could have conceived of any situation where it would be required to reassemble a gun, he'd want to have Becker right there beside him.

Probably make him feel bad, being so much faster at it than Danny, but then, Danny's big enough to admit he's not good at _everything_. Just, you know, the things that actually have a point.

Becker finishes and gives him a look that hints at the possibility of a future frown. "You done with it yet?"

"It?" Danny needs a moment to get his head back into the conversation. "Oh, yes, sure. Saved my life, that gun. Connor's and Abby's too."

Becker nods, once, as if he wouldn't have expected anything less. As if Danny _needed_ Becker's gun to save the world (which, admittedly, he did, sort of, except that it could have been any old gun Danny'd had with him; it's not like the fact that it happened to be Becker's made any difference). "Can I have it back then?"

It's probably a coincidence that he takes the safety off his current substitute for a girlfriend then.

"Yes." Danny's lips feel a little dry. He licks them. "About that."

"Problem?" It's definitely a coincidence Becker pretends to take aim at some point nowhere near Danny.

"Bit of one, yeah." Not _really_ , Danny tells himself. It's just a gun, after all; plenty more of them around - and look at what Becker's doing right now. Not like the guy's pining or anything. "I kind of lost it."

Becker lowers his gun and starts taking it apart _again_. "Careless of you," he says.

"Sorry." Danny hopes he sounds sincere.

"If that was all you wanted to talk about, I'm kind of busy over here."

Danny decides not to comment that yes, he can see that - and that perhaps Becker wants to get a room or something for that sort of thing, a bit of privacy.

 

The thing is: having talked about it doesn't really help. It doesn't really _change_ anything.

"You notice anything different about Becker lately?" Connor's not really the most observant person Danny's ever met, really - not when it comes to other people, anyway - but Danny figures he's a guy, too, and possibly, maybe, the kind of guy Becker doesn't feel he needs to prove anything to.

Connor gives him an utterly blank look. "Different?"

"Like he's pissed off at me or something."

Connor frowns. "Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing." Danny doesn't snap. Connor's a smart guy, really; he keeps inventing new things, _useful_ things, and if some of them kind of blow up the first time they try to use them, well, that's what they've got the insurance for. They usually do work the second time around, so Danny thinks that's fair enough.

"Oh god, he found out about you leaving his favorite gun in the future, didn't he?" Connor closes his eyes, then opens them to give Danny a pleading look. "Did you tell him I had nothing to do with it? Wasn't my fault at all, was it? Nothing I could have done. Or Abby. Not that he'd hit a girl, anyway."

"He's not going to hit you, either." Danny hopes he manages to sound kind and patient. "That's not the kind of man Becker is." Becker might hit _Danny_ , perhaps - in a fair fight. Try to, anyway; it's not like Danny's helpless or anything, even if he's not some kind of soldier boy who's obsessed with guns.

"Did it just yesterday," Connor says.

"What?" Danny frowns.

"You saw him," Connor says, sounding righteous and unfairly put upon. "At sparring practice."

Danny's frown relaxes into a snort. "It was barely a tap." Becker's always holding back with Connor - even more so than with Abby, because Abby's got _some_ training, at least, and she's _tough_. "Never mind. Forget about it." Danny's the only one Becker never holds back with, because he knows Danny can take anything Becker can dish out - and a bit more, too. In fact, sometimes _Danny_ 's the one holding back at sparring practice - not that he ever lets on to that, of course.

Connor shrugs, seemingly glad enough to drop the subject.

 

"Want to go for a drink?" Actually, the last thing Danny wants is a drink; he just wants to sit down, prop up his feet, maybe get a nice cup of tea and read a good book. That's not really the kind of thing he can use to get Becker to let down his guard a little though, so ... drinks it is.

"Not really." Or rather: drinks it would be, if only Becker would be willing to play along.

"What, got something better to do?"

Becker gives him a look that borders on 'unfriendly' but stays within the range of 'weary'. "I think we both need some rest more than we need to get a drink."

"Allow me to disagree," Danny says.

"Permission granted." Becker's smile is so faint as to be unnoticeable to any but the most keen observers, such as Danny. "Good night, Quinn."

"Food then," Danny amends. "You need to eat, right?"

Becker's expression is that of a man trying to think of a good excuse to keep saying 'no'.

"Lester's treat," Danny says quickly. "I know a great place."

Becker sighs. "I guess we could do dinner."

"Great." Danny doesn't feel the least bit hungry, but he knows he should eat something as well as Becker knows it. Plus, it's been a while since he's reminded Lester just who it is that's leading the team that's so essential to the ARC.

 

Becker is - well, not a picky eater, really, but _tidy_. Cuts up his meat into pieces that are all just the right size, chews carefully before swallowing, cleans his plate - that sort of thing. Doesn't seem to be enjoying the food, or disliking it, for that matter. There's food put in front of him, and Becker eats it, and Danny watches him without being obvious about it. That's how it is, more or less.

Danny doesn't taste his food half the time, but the other half, he likes what he tastes. It's good food, good enough to wake up his appetite.

"Something on my face?" Becker asks, his tone indicating he already knows the answer.

"You're not enjoying this, are you?"

Becker looks genuinely surprised for maybe one full second. "It's good food," he says. "I'm just more used to being the one doing the wining and dining, than the one to _be_ wined and dined."

Danny chuckles. Becker fails to join in. "What," Danny says, "you're not seriously thinking I'm doing this to get you into bed or something?"

"Or something," Becker echoes. "Not exactly subtle, are you?"

"Never had complaints before." Danny wonders why he's even bothering saying it; not like he needs to defend himself to Becker or anything; if he was really trying to seduce the man, Becker'd bloody well know about it - and _not_ be smirking and telling Danny he's lacking in subtlety or some such thing.

"I wasn't complaining, merely making an observation."

Danny thinks that through for a moment. "So you're saying you'd be up for it, then?"

Becker shrugs. Danny's not fooled into thinking that means he's leaving the decision, the choice to Danny. It just means Becker's put the ball in Danny's court, so to speak. Typical.

"Been a busy day, of course," he says. "Probably not much point to it, now. I mean, you're probably all worn out." As is Danny, if he's honest with himself. Still, the thought of Becker, naked, in his bed - it's enough to make Danny feel like maybe he's not that worn out after all.

Would be nice to see that perfect soldier mask slip a little, to see what it would take to make Becker lose it. Danny thinks he could stand to do without a few hours of sleep for that - he can always catch up tomorrow, tell Lester he's coming in a bit late. (He might even cover for Becker, too, although Becker's probably going to be an idiot and insist he can walk straight and report for duty.)

"Usually, when people say that, they're the ones who are too worn out for anything," Becker says.

"They are, are they?" Danny leans his elbows on the table. "Care to test that theory?"

"I suppose I might," Becker says.


End file.
